The Untold Tale of Jesper Richardson
by BookDragonNerd
Summary: Everyone knows Jesper as the whining thief, but how well do they really know him? What's his backstory? Why does he do the things he does? This is a look at the inner workings of Jesper throughout the entire Brotherband series. Let's see how well people really know him. (Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Brotherband Chronicles)
1. Chapter 1

Jesper was the first boy to arrive at the small field on the first day of brotherband training, not that anyone noticed. As his small hut was about a thirty minute walk uphill from the rest of the town, he was not confident enough in his ability to stay out of trouble on the walk downhill and make it to the field on time. So yesterday he had snuck into one of the storage houses, spending the night there, and then took a path through the trees in order to reach the small field undetected. There, he watched the twenty seven other boys begin to filter in through the branches of the tree he was perched in. The first boy arrived alone. He had darker hair than most of the other Skandians, and was not as muscular. Jesper searched for his name. If he recalled correctly, his name started with an E. Edward? No, it was Edvin. That was right. The others arrived shortly after him. Hal and Stig arrived together. Jesper had expected that. Since they were 12 years old, they had been inseparable. He didn't really know what had transpired between the two. Whatever happened, he was glad of it. Hal seemed to be able to get Stig to calm down, at least sometimes. It was a good strong friendship, and he knew that it helped the both of them with their insecurities, whether they were aware of it or not.

Unsurprisingly, Tursgud's group was the loudest when entering, as well as the last. Jesper's lip curled in disgust as he watched him. Tursgud was a bully, and was all too confident in his abilities. Jesper knew that he had deliberately cut it close, to show that he was not at all affected about what was about to happen. Jesper slipped down the tree he was in and stood at the fringes of the group of boys. He figured that there would be three brotherbands. As long as he wasn't put in Tursgud's group, he didn't have a preference. Tursgud and Rollond would undoubtedly be elected to be two of the leaders. He figured Hal would be the third. Although Jesper was not close with anyone in Hallasholm, he did watch the people there, and had determined that there were 8 "outcasts", including himself. Out of those eight, Hal had the most qualities of a leader. He was a brilliant inventor, though he did have a lot of failed inventions. Jesper had watched as he had brought his ship, the Heron, into the harbor the other day. Hal's voice had a note of authority in it as he had commanded Stig, Ingvar, and the twins on what to do to bring the ship in safely. And, though he was nervous, he didn't lose his head when he found that he was bearing down on the Oberjarl's ship, the Wolfwind.

Jesper frowned as he noticed Erak walking with Sigurd, who was in charge of the brotherband training. He knew it wasn't normal for the Oberjarl to be there for the start of brotherband training. He had no idea what was different about today. He moved slightly closer to the cover of trees. Better to be prepared than to be caught with his pants down. A flicker of movement in the trees caught his eyes. Waiting a few moments, he casually turned his head in the direction the movement had come from. Standing amid the trees was the one handed Skandian Thorn. He was watching Hal, and didn't notice Jesper looking at him. Jesper turned his gaze back to the front before he was caught. Thorn was a bit of a mystery to him. About six years ago, Thorn had turned away from the tankard and become a bit of a father figure to Hal. Doing a little digging, Jesper had found that Thorn and Mikkel, Hal's father, had been on the same wolf ship before Mikkel was mulled. He had also found on the rather untouched dusty records that Thorn had been Maktig three years in a row. Even accomplishing the feat once was impressive, but three times? Jesper still wasn't sure whether or not he believed it.

The group of boys crowded closer to the platform where the two now stood. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself, Jesper reluctantly moved with them, but made sure to stay on the edges of the group. Tursgud and three of his cronies thrust there way to the front. Jesper watched Erak nod to him in greeting. The bully nodded back, and Jesper noticed that Hal, who was now in the back row, had seen the exchange as well. Hal's lip curled in annoyance at the confident way Tursgud held himself. Jesper wouldn't mind getting to know the half Skandian a bit further. With any luck, they would be put in the same brotherband, with Hal as the skirl. But Jesper didn't want to give the Fates any ideas and kept his hopes to himself.

"All right! All right! Settle down and pay attention!" Sigurd called out across the field. "Everybody here? Sing out if you're not here." Jesper snorted. Apparently the no nonsense Sigurd had a sense of humor. Or, at least, Sigurd believed he did. "All right," Sigurd said, "let's get underway." Jesper supposed he shouldn't be surprised. An experienced fighter knew how to make a quick headcount when facing multiple opponents. It only made sense that they would use this skills in other settings.

"Today, you're going to be selected into your brotherbands." Sigurd paused. "That's in case any of you thought this was the Hallasholm Ladies' Needlework Society. If so, you may leave now." Jesper raised his eyebrows. That was more than a little pathetic. But, he supposed not everyone could have good humor. Sigurd continued, "First thing we do is select brotherband leaders. Any nominations?" Jesper rolled his eyes as the boy on Tursgud's right side called the bully's name. The boy on Tursgud's left was quick to second the nomination. As Jesper had predicted, Rollond was also nominated as a brotherband leader. Rollond was a fair person, he knew, and Jesper was well aware of his popularity. Both he and Tursgud seemed to have an equal amount of followers. Thankfully, Rollond didn't bully those he felt threatened by like Tursgud. He was a bit surprised when Hal seconded Rollond's nomination, but figured that Hal knew what Rollond was like and appreciated his personality.

Unsurprisingly, Stig nominated Hal as a brotherband leader. Jesper watched with slight amusement as Hal blushed and cursed silently. Stig repeated the nomination, leaning slightly to one side to allow Sigurd to see him. Jesper narrowed his eyes in annoyance when Sigurd called out "Hal who?" Really, he thought, how hard is it to remember the one person who lost his father at see and is being raised by his Araluen mother? He already has a hard enough time fitting in, Jesper thought angrily, and Sigurd just made it even worse. He felt Hal's embarrassment at Tursgud's derisive tone, and watched as Hal tried to get Stig to shut up. Jesper closed his eyes as Stig's temper got the better of him, and listened with a grimace as the majority of the boys mocked him for it.

He was glad when Sigurd got the boys back under control. Jesper may not have been close to either of the two boys, but he knew what it was like to be bullied and ridiculed, and felt bad for them. Jesper silently huffed as Sigurd defended Karina Mikkelson. So he was a good friend of Mikkel's, but he couldn't remember his son's name? Some friend he was. Jesper gritted his teeth in anger when someone called out "The mongrel?" Unfortunately, Sigurd couldn't determine who had spoken, and they went unpunished. When Sigurd asked for a second for the nomination of Hal, Jesper almost spoke up, but he stopped himself before he did. He knew that there would have to be three brotherbands this year, and he wanted to see how things played out. Worst comes to worst, he could always second Hal as a brotherband skirl later. Jesper met Sigurd's gaze evenly as he called out for more nominations. No one was willing to draw attention to themselves or be placed on a losing team.

Jesper watched with interest as Erak stepped forward. "Alright," the Oberjarl began, "we'll start with the two skirls we've got and see how we're doing by the time we're down to the last nine or ten." Well, Jesper thought, it will most likely be the last eight. It made more sense if there were two groups of ten and one group of eight. The two nominated skirls called out names quickly in the beginning, slowing down as their friends joined them and picking teams required a bit more thought. Jesper pursed his lips as Rollond called Stig's name. Stig hesitated. He knew, as Jesper knew, that Tursgud would pick Hal, and make his life miserable for the allotted time for brotherband training. Jesper allowed a ghost of a smile pass over his face as Stig passed. His loyalty to Hal was admirable, and Jesper hoped that the two adults had enough sense to keep them in the same brotherband.

He was pleasantly surprised when Erak interfered with Tursgud's picking of Hal. Jesper watched with no small amount of amusement and satisfaction as Erak turned on Tursgud and put him in his place. He rolled his eyes as Rollond said he wouldn't take Stig either. Gods, these people were annoying. He knew it would mean that it meant that Hal and Stig were going to be part of the third brotherband together, but really, how petty can a group of teenage boys be? As the two skirls continued choosing people, Jesper glanced around. The remaining people were exactly who he had thought they would be. The twins Ulf and Wulf, who wore twin scowls across the small field from him. The mimic, Stefan, the giant Ingvar who Jesper had noticed had terrible eyesight, Edvin, who had shown up first after Jesper, and, of course, Stig, Hal, and himself.

Sigurd looked uncertainly at the leftovers that had been determined as the third brotherband. Jesper understood why. Apart from Ulf and Wulf and Stig and Hal, they were scattered across the field on their own. It was clear that they were not the closest of groups. Jesper snorted at Tursgud's stupidity as he began to argue with Erak. for some reason, Tursgud couldn't seem to get it through his thick head that Erak was the Oberjarl and the Oberjarl's word was law in Skandia. He was slightly surprised when Ingvar stepped up and said they should be called the Herons, then remembered that that was the name of Hal's ship. He laughed with the others when Edvin was the one to point out that sharks were, in fact, fish, turning Tursgud's statement about the only things to be feared by herons were fish around to use it against Tursgud.

Jesper was glad that the rest of the boys all agreed that Hal should be leader. Well, all of them but Hal. It was good that Hal was humble, but there was a point that he needed to accept that he was going to be skirl so that they could get a move on with their shelter. So, when Hal said, "Don't rush into this. Tursgud hates me. You all know that. If you elect me as leader, he'll hate you as well.", Jesper made a disparaging gesture and responded, "So what? He hates us anyway." It wasn't long after when Hal officialy became skirl of the small brotherband. Jesper watched as Hal gained more confidence once the materials were all laid out and he began to instruct them on how to build a shelter for the night. While they worked, Jesper saw Sigurd and Erak watching them through the trees, but he thought he saw approval in their eyes. He didn't mention it to the others, and shook the fanciful thoughts from his head and focused back on the task at hand, though he made sure to keep an eye on the two adults until they turned around and headed away form the brotherband.

They had the basic structure of the building complete by late afternoon. Hal told the group his plans for the roof, and Jesper had to ask about the roof. He figured they would use the canvas, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. At least, not this time. Turning to Hal, he said, "What about the walls? There doesn't seem to be enough timber for them."

Hal nodded. "More canvas. We've got plenty of that. In effect, we're building a big, timber-framed tent." Jesper nodded in acceptance. The analogy was a good one, and he could see understanding dawning on the others' faces.

Jesper looked at the sky and noticed the dark clouds were much closer than before. Before he could speak up Stig said, "We'd better get a move on with the roof. It'll be raining in an hour."

Hal frowned. "We'll have to rig something temporary." he paused for a moment, thinking. "We'll set up a ridge pole and stretch canvas over it. The rain will pool in, but most of it should run off. Just don't anybody touch it where the canvas sags."

Jesper smirked slightly to himself as Hal gave them new instructions and snarked with Stefan. It was always nice when you were proved right, he thought as he and Stefan began to nail the floorboards in. his smirk got a little bigger as Hal dealt with the twins. Stefan looked at him questioningly, and Jesper jerked his head toward the dumbfounded twins. Stefan understood immediately and smirked as well.

The group finished in just over forty minutes, just as the rain was starting to fall. Jesper watched with amusement as Hal once again dealt with the twins, and then slight exasperation as he watched the Wulf pull the rope Hal had put on his wrist and give it to his brother, who promptly put it on from inside the tent. He shook his head slightly, a slight smile on his face. They were growing closer, and, Jesper knew, it was a first for many of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Jesper spent the night lying awake, thinking of how he got to that point. He had been born in Las Vegas, Nevada. His mother, Eleanor Richardson, worked long hours at one of the casinos on Fremont Street and spent most of her time at their small rundown apartment drunk. His father hadn't been in the picture since he left Jesper's mom before she knew she was pregnant. It had left her bitter, and she could hardly stand to look at her son.

If Jesper was extra good and she hadn't been drinking too much Eleanor might tell him "good job" when he did something like earning a few dollars for walking the neighbor's dog. Jesper lived for these small moments of praise, craving them, doing everything he could to try to make her proud. Unfortunately, as he grew older, the praise became less and less common (not that it ever could be defined as "common").

One day, when he came home from school, he had just climbed through the living room window (Eleanor didn't believe that he wouldn't lose a key, so he had to use the fire escape and climb through the window. Jepser figured that Eleanor either didn't care, or didn't know. He was never brave enough to figure out which it was) when he heard voices in the kitchen. Frowning, he moved silently to the closed door to hear better.

"How old is he?" The voice was deep and gruff. Definitely not his mother.

"He's seven." That, on the other hand, was his mother. She wasn't extremely drunk, he could tell, but she was far from sober. Her words stirred a sense of unease in him. He was seven. Jesper didn't know why she would be talking to a stranger about him, but he sensed it wasn't good.

"Hmm. A bit on the young side, but we'll just get him for longer than him. How tall is he?" on the young side? Young side for what? Why did it matter how tall he was? None of it made sense.

"He's a little taller than average, but don't worry. He'd thinner than a stick, shouldn't give you any trouble." Trouble? Jesper narrowed his eyes, but couldn't for the life of him figure out why his mother and the stranger were talking about him.

The man she was talking to snorted. "I'm not worried about any trouble he'll give me. You said he's seven? Ha. No, I just needed to know if he would fit in the trunk or not." That stirred a memory somewhere inside Jesper's head. The older children at school liked to scare the younger ones with horror stories of people shoving kids and trucks and taking them away, never to be seen again. One of the teachers had overheard, and was furious at the children. He had said that they shouldn't make light of this type of thing, as it actually happened. He had called the people who took the children something, but Jesper couldn't remember what.

"Well," the man said, "how much do you want for him?"

"$850."

"For this scrawny thing? No way. $600."

"$800 or no deal."

The man gave a long drawn out sigh. "Fine. $800. When am I going to pick him up?"

"He should be coming home soon. You'll get him as soon as you give me the money."

Jesper was frozen in shock and horror. He may not have been the smartest child in an academic setting with his ADHD and dyslexia, but he was far from stupid. He understood all too well that his mother had just sold him to this stranger in the kitchen. He was shaken from his thoughts when the man spoke again.

"I'll try not to get caught in the afternoon traffic." He laughed at his own joke. Traffic. _Traffic_. All of a sudden, it came rushing back to Jesper. The teacher had called them human traffickers. People who either bought or kidnapped people and transported them to other countries. Most of the time, the people ended up as slaves. Jesper's horror grew. He had to leave. He could not be sold to this person. Silently, Jesper turned away from the door and crept out the window. Once he was back on the ground, he bolted. He had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that he had to get away from there. Jesper didn't feel the full sting of betrayal until he was bouncing around under a blanket in the bed of a truck he had snuck on, watching the stars and stark landscape of the desert streaking past him through blurry vision.

Jesper was alone for the next few weeks, never staying in one city for more than three days. He stole a sweatshirt from a thrift store, and it provided him some protection from the bitterly cold January wind. On the Wednesday of his fourth week on the run, he was cornered by a dog in an alleyway. This dog was far from the normal street dog, though. For one, it was huge, and would have towered over a grown man, nevermind a slightly taller than average seven year old boy. For another, it's eyes glowed red. Jesper was frozen in fear. The dog growled, a low rumbling in its throat, and Jesper could feel the vibrations in the ground through his feet. Jesper slowly backed up, and, feeling his back hit the dumpster, he spun around and managed to crouch onto the edge of the dumpster.

The moment he started to turn his head, the beast lunged. Acting instinctively, Jesper jumped, landing on the dogs head. He immediately launched himself up and off, just managing to heap onto the fire escape. He scrambled up, and the fearsome beast lunged.

The snapping teeth just barely missed him and Jesper scrambled higher, desperately trying to put as much distance between him and the dog as possible. The dog snarled and was collecting itself for another jump when it suddenly howled in pain. Jesper watched in disbelief as the nightmarish creature crumbled to dust before him.

"Oh that is disgusting." A teenage guy grumbled, brushing the dust off of his hat and clothes. He appeared to be only about a foot and a half taller than Jesper and was dressed in jeans, and winter jacket, and a beanie. At the moment, he was wiping a bronze sword with a faint glow to it on his jeans.

The boy glanced up. Jesper was still clinging to the fire escape, eyes wide, gaping at him. The boy smiled disarmingly. "Hey, you can come down now. It's gone. It won't hurt you anymore." Jesper didn't move. "Come on," the boy began softly, kindly. "I know that metal must be freezing under your bare hands. Let me help you."

Jesper learned that the boy's name was Liam Barrow. Liam explained to him that the beast that had attacked him was a hell hound, a monster of the Underworld. Jesper listened in fascination as Liam told him how the Greek gods were still around, following the western flame. According to Liam, his dad was one of these Greek gods. Apparently, demigods (or half bloods) had a smell that attracted monsters. The demigods could kill them only by using weapons made of Celestial bronze, the metal that Liam's sword was made out of.

When Jesper asked to see the sword, Liam had pulled out a stick of chapstick. He laughed at Jesperson dumbfounded expression and took of the cap. Instantly, the chapstick became the bronze sword Jesper had seen earlier. On the blade close to the hilt, the sword's name was written. _λυκόφως. Twilight._ Jesper didn't realize that he had read the name and understood it in Ancient Greek until Liam pointed it out. He said that all demigods knew how to read Ancient Greek. It was the reason they had dyslexia. Apparently, they all had ADHD too. It helped them stay alive in battle, even if they were untrained.

When Jesper asked Liam if he was a demigod, he shook his head. "I'm a satyr." He said. He took of his hat and showed Jesper the small horns hidden by his hair and kicked of his shoes, revealing the cloven hooves. Jesper watched in fascination. "I'm half goat, half human. My job is to find demigods like you and take them back to camp."

"Find demigods? How?"

"Satyrs have a very keen sense of smell." Liam tapped his nose. "We can sniff out a demigod, as well as monsters."

"What camp are you talking about?"

Liam smiled a little wistfully. "Camp Half Blood. It's the only safe place on earth for demigods. The borders are magical, and the monsters can't get in. Demigods train there, learn how to survive. Many only come for the summer, but those with more powerful smells or family problems stay year round."

Liam took Jesper under his wing and they began their journey from Provo, Utah (where they first met) to Manhattan. During that time, Liam Gabe Jesper his sword and began to teach him the basics of sword fighting. (Jesper only learned later on that satyrs didn't really use swords to fight). He also began teaching Jesper Ancient Greek and about the different monsters in Greek mythology.

9 weeks after they met, Jesper and Liam were racing through a dark city, a pack of monsters on their heels. They ran into an empty warehouse. The lights turned on, and they revealed a group of werewolves blocking the only other exit.

Liam forced Jesper to run, holding off the monsters so that he could get away safely. The next day, Jesper returned to the warehouse. The floor was covered in dust. In the middle, a small fern plant was growing, the bright green a stark contrast to the dusty interior.

Jesper managed to make it to Camp Half Blood, the fern in one hand, his sword in the other. The camp was struggling. The huge pine tree that strengthened the camp's magical borders had been poisoned, leaving the borders weakened. The demigods has set up patrols, and each new camper was trained harder in order to get as many fighters as possible to protect the camp.

Only a about a month after Jesper arrived Chiron was banished. It was a long, stressful summer, filled with prayers that the half bloods would return with the Golden Fleece and that his father, whoever he was, would claim him.

Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Clarisse, and Chiron returned to camp with the Golden Fleece. Jesper watched in awe as it brought back not only the strength of the borders, but also Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus. Things settled down after that. Everyday, Jesper went to the lake where he had planted the fern and sat by it, explaining everything that had happened that day. Jesper still hadn't been claimed, but he found a good friend in a boy his age. His name was Pavel Chekov, and Jesper had found him wandering alone near the border of the camp. The boy only spoke Russian, and they spent most of their time together, with Jesper teaching Pavel English as well as Ancient Greek. At the end of the summer, Pavel was claimed as a child of Hephaestus. Jesper was happy for his friend, he really was, but couldn't help feeling bitterly jealous that Pavel had been claimed so soon while Jesper was still waiting.

Pavel and Jesper went to the same elementary school in Manhattan, and grew closer together. Both spent the year at camp, taking Pegasi to get to and from school. The next summer, Jesper was claimed as a son of Hermes. The cabin welcomed him with open arms, and began to show him the tricks of all their trade.

Both Jesper and Pavel trained constantly, motivated by the threat of the looming war. Jesper was becoming extremely good in swordsmanship, while Pavel focused more on his skills with knives.

They were ten when they fought in the last battle of the Titan War. In that same battle, they each killed for the first time. It weighed heavily on them both, and it took time for the camp to get back on its feet.

At the beginning of the Giant War, the group of two became three. Dawn, a daughter of Apollo, arrived just two months after Percy disappeared. As they were all the same age, they gravitated towards each other, and quickly became inseparable. By some miracle, all three survived the Giant War.

The next summer brought on new problems. Jesper, Dawn, and Pavel were sent to try and map out the Labyrinth, at least the areas close to the camp. Camp Half Blood was working with the Romans, preparing for their third war against the three undead emperors. The war lasted two years. The trio was fourteen when it finally ended, and each had become their respective cabin's leaders by the end of the war. Jesper was now the best swordsman in the camp (unless Percy was there).

The demigods all thought that they would finally catch a break. But, less than a month after the third war ended, the gods went silent. All communication was cut off as well. There was no contact with the Romans, Hunters, or the Amazons. A few demigods were sent out to try to contact the romans, but they never returned. Nobody knew what happened to them. A few demigods who had left camp for the school year came back to camp, but there were many who were unaccounted for. Percy, Annabeth, Jason, and Nico had returned to camp as soon as the gods went silent, but others, like the Stolls and Lou Ellen, never showed up. Jesper could only hope that they made it to New Rome. The half bloods weren't prepared for another war. After three back to back wars, their ambrosia and nectar supply was extremely low, as well as their armor supply. As they could not get to Olympus, they had no way of replenishing their supplies.

It wasn't long before their enemy was revealed. Tartarus was furious that Percy had escaped his grasp and went on to help defeat Gaea (Annabeth too, but Percy especially). The war had been hard. Every half blood who was still in school had to attend even though they were at war. They had to do everything they could to keep the government's attention off of them. It was always strived to do, but the demigods new that if they were discovered now, that would be the end of the world. They would most likely be thrown in a secluded prison and be experimented on. They knew that none of them would be allowed the same rights as "normal" people, and would most likely be taken to a secluded area and held there. It would spell destruction for the world because there wouldn't be anyone able to fight against Tartarus.

Only a few months into the war, Chiron was killed. It was a huge blow to the demigods, but they kept fighting. The next major blow was the destruction of the dining pavilion and kitchens. It was right after Chiron's death, and the half bloods struggled to get enough food. The Hermes cabin did what they could, but stealing for 86 people was difficult if they wanted to remain undetected and in the same city. As a result, the half bloods were extremely malnourished by the end of the war. On the Christmas Eve during the war, the monsters forced the demigods to watch as every single one of their mortal parents were murdered through a version of an Iris message through shadows. No one was spared, even if a demigod had cut off all ties with their parents years ago. The monsters had effectively cut off all outside help. There was no one but those who had made t to camp. No gods, no Chiron, no Romans, no Hunters, no Amazons, and no mortal connection. Then, just as school ended, the rest of the camp was destroyed in a huge frontal assault. The demigods were forced to evacuate, and spent the last few months of the war on the streets of Manhattan.

The Final War lasted two for two years. During that time, the half bloods used the map that Jesper and his friends had created to catch monsters by surprise and delay the inevitable final confrontation. Everything came to a head the week of Percy's 21st birthday. There were 86 demigods facing off against thousands of monsters. There was nothing promising about the situation. The Hecate and Hephaestus cabin had managed to trick the mortals into evacuating the city, ensuring that none of the mortals would be harmed in the final confrontation. Everyone knew that they had no hope of defeating Tartarus, that even if Percy, Jason, and Nico burned themselves up by using all of their energy to defeat him he would be banished for only a few days. The three sons of the Big Three managed to devise a plan. It wasn't by any means foolproof, but it was the best option.

Tartarus was furious with Percy the most, but he wouldn't actually come and fight until the last day (which happened to be poor Percy's birthday). They decided that when Tartarus showed up the three would fight him together, taunting him the entire time. The goal was to get him so angry that he would use all of his energy putting a curse on the demigods, and would not have the energy to rise again, at least for the next two centuries. Of course, that meant that the rest of the half bloods would be fighting against the thousands of monsters.

Jesper knew, like every other half blood, that none of them were going to survive this fight. Most of the veterans wouldn't even have armor to protect them as they didn't have enough. Their only hope was that they wouldn't die in vain. He was sad that he would never reach 16, but he turned that sadness into energy and fought for every kid out in the world to have the chance that he didn't get to grow up. On the last day, when the final fight took place, there was only 28 demigods still alive.

Percy, Jason, and Nick fought against Tartarus. Every time they were knocked down, they would get back up and rush him again, taunting him the entire time. Sometime during the fight, Jesper, Dawn and Pavel had been separated. It was each demigod, fighting against the monsters that surrounded them. Even when the demigods were struck by an arrow, or slashed with a knife, they ignored the pain and kept fighting. The only time a demigod stopped was when they were dead. Jesper fought like a demon, his sword moving impossibly fast. He ignored each injury he got and killed as many monsters as possible, but he could only go on for so long. He was finally struck down with a knife to the ribs. He had felt a sharp flare of pain before the world went completely black and he died.

The first thing that Jesper noticed was the cold. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a snow covered forest. The next thing he was aware of was a stabbing pain in his ribs. It felt exactly like how the wound that had killed him felt. However, his skin was unblemished in that area when he inspected it. When he looked at his reflection in the nearby creek, he found that he had been reverted back to his eight year old self. However, he had all of his scars from his years as a demigod and he was as skinny as he had been during the Final War (it was the first time he had been aware of the stabbing pains of hunger that he had felt for the duration of the giant war). He checked his pocket, and found that his sword was there in its chapstick form.

Jesper managed to walk to a fairly sizable town, but he had to stop and stare at the edge of it. It was like he had been plunged into the Dark Ages. the people of the town were big and burly, and every adult he saw seemed to carry around a weapon of some kind (most of them were axes). He discovered that the town was called Hallasholm, and was the "capital" of Skandia. He learned that the people of the town seemed to know him as someone who was a troublemaker and a thief, but who never kept his treasures. He chalked it up to the Mist messing with people's minds. He decided that the best course of action was to do what he was known for: stealing and then showing it off. It wasn't what he planned to do, but he knew the importance of keeping up appearances in order to stay under the radar.

Through the years, he learned everything he could about the world he was now in and the people in Hallasholm. He found a small hut about thirty minutes walk from the town, close enough to the town that he could get supplies, but far enough so that he didn't endanger the people in the town. He learned how to make his own bow and arrows, hunt, and prepare food. He still dealt with the monster attacks, but he managed to keep them away from the people of Hallasholm. Thankfully, people never questioned where he lived or where his parents were. He wasn't sure what he would tell them if they did.

Over the years, he discovered (from the monsters) that the other demigods have been subjected to the same fate, each waking up in a completely new world with no one that they know or trust. Every year, the same week that Jesper showed up in Skandia, the monsters would manage to catch and torture him for at least a few days before he managed to escape. He found that once he reached the same age that he died, he would stop growing. So, he would stay looking like his 15 year old self until he was finally killed. The worst part about it, he thought was not that he was thrown into a world that he had no prior knowledge of, that he was completely alone, or even that he had to deal with yearly torture sessions. No, the worst was that he didn't know if they won or not. He didn't know if they managed to defeat Tartarus or if they all died in vain, and he believed it was the worst torture he had to endure.

As a result, he watched and learned from a distance but never got too close to anyone. Now that he was in a brotherband, he knew his secret would become more difficult to keep. Jesper sighed and turned over in his bedroll. It would be especially difficult when he had nightmares. He managed to learn how to not scream out loud during them, but he wasn't sure how much he moved. He supposed he would just have to hope for the best.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry that this chapter is so much shorter than the others, I hope you enjoy it!**

Jesper acted like he had been woken like everyone else by Gort. He was thankfully successful in hiding his amusement at everyone's startlement when they first heard the clanging of the iron hoop that woke them up. He acted just as bleary eyed and tired as the other boys as they pulled on their their shoes. He shivered slightly as he stepped out into the chilly air of the morning. He felt a glow of pride as Gort appraised their tent. Jesper had figured that neither of the other groups had slept dry the night before. If he was being honest, he would have built himself a hammock or something. There was no way he would have been able to put together the materials into the structure that Hal had.

The water from the creek they washed in was icy cold, and definitely woke up anyone who was still sleepy. Jesper huffed as Gort made them double time to the small field from the other day that was to be the brotherband training ground. Three days ago he had fought a two headed dog. It was about the same size as the average hellhound. Jepser was pretty sure it was Orthrus. The dumb dog had surprised him from behind, at its claws caught a glancing blow on his left calf. The cut was shallow, but it was fairly long and painful. It was all Jesper could do to not limp when he walked, and walking double time just made it worse. He huffed again. It was bad enough that he always felt the pain of the knife that killed him and the effects of malnourishment, but to add new injuries to the bargain? So inconsiderate.

Jepser noted with satisfaction that the Herons were the first group to arrive. He smiled when he saw the food awaiting them. Jepser closed his eyes blissfully as he bit into the fresh bread. He had learned to cook for himself over the years, and while he wasn't terrible, it certainly wasn't going to win any awards. He cooked to stay alive, not to test different seasonings. Most of the bread he ate was stale, as he would normally steal it from the local bakery. He usually didn't treat himself to a fresh loaf.

Jesper smirked as he watched the other two brotherbands stumble into the field, stiff and wet. He raised his mug to Tursgud as he came in. the burly boy glared at him. Jesper was unaffected. He had seen much worse.

"Hey there, Tursgud! Look who's here before you? Hal Who and Hal Who's Herons, that's who!" Jesper laughed with the other Herons at Stefan's cheerful greeting. He noticed that a few of Rollond's band members laughed as well. That was good. It meant that the Herons weren't hated by Rollond's group.

Jesper watched with interest as Tursgud forced two of his teammates to share their bacon with him. They did so reluctantly. Jesper was sure that someone in the group would have offered to share with him, had he waited longer. In his impatience, he had begun to alienate his followers. Glancing to the side, Jesper saw that Hal had also seen the little scene. Hal was smart. Jesper figures he had come to the same conclusion.

Jesper was just as surprised as Stefan when Hal told him to stop making fun of Tursgud. It was clear, at least to him, that Stefan admired Hal and was making fun of Tursgud on Hal's behalf. It was good that Hal didn't want to put other people down without a necessary reason. It made for good character.

His lips twitched upward in a slight smile when Sigurd told them they made a good choice in their skirl. He listened attentively as Sigurd explained how the events on the parchment he handed Hal worked. They weren't in order and they were either individual or as a group. Jesper hopes he didn't get stuck with it. While his dyslexia was better, it was still difficult to read in something other than Ancient Greek.

"You can read them later!" Sigurd said, annoyed as Stig and Edvin crowded Hal, trying to see over his shoulder. "There's no set schedule for these tests. We might ask you to do one tomorrow, or next week. Or the week after. We might ask you to do tasks two days running, then nothing for several weeks. In between, we'll be assessing your skills and teaching you more of them. You might care to know, however, that you've already had your first test."

Jesper was almost 100% positive that the first test had been building the shelter. He listened as Hal asked the question, and was pleased that he was correct (not that he showed it).

Sigurd cleared his throat. "Head back and tidy your living quarters. Then get your kit together. We'll be assessing your skills today so be back here with any weapons you already have in twenty minutes."

Jesper had a saxe knife and a small hunting bow that he used to hunt for food. He also had his sword, but he clearly wasn't going to show anyone that. He had to be careful, because unlike Earth, chapstick was not something that had been invented yet, and would not put Jesper in anyone's good books.

He grimaced as he began packing up his kit. The stabbing pain in his side was definitely worse today than it had been yesterday. He was glad that there wouldn't be one of the events today, but he wasn't exactly thrilled they would be working with weapons either. He gave a mental shrug. He would be in pain no matter what he did.

Jesper watched as Stefan questioned Hal on whether or not it was necessary to be in two file lines. He knew Hal wasn't very comfortable giving orders, but he needed to get there soon. It wouldn't do to have a skirl who was nervous with how his crew would react. Jesper had to see if he could stage something to help Hal along with gaining more confidence.

He glanced approvingly at Hal when he told Stig to call double time for them as they jogged back down the field. As much as he knew it would hurt (and be difficult to cover up the fact that he hurt), it was good if they started to act like a team. It would also win the approval of the adults.

Jesper was pretty sure that when they arrived, Rollond was annoyed that he had not thought of coming down to the training field that way himself. He knew it looked a lot better than just arriving like a cluster of minnows.

As good as Rollond was, Hal was better. By far. Jesper couldn't read minds, but he was pretty good reading body language, and he was pretty sure that although their group was the smallest, they were also the ones who were closest to being a crew at this point in training. He was also pretty sure that everyone in the Herons brotherband would rather be here than in another brotherband. He knew he did.


	4. Chapter 4

The assistant instructor assigned to the Heron brotherband was a typical large, hairy Skandian named Gort. Jesper watched as he approached their lines. While it was clear that Gort enjoyed his food, Jesper could tell that he was still a formidable opponent. Just not to a demigod.

"Very pretty," Gort snorted sarcastically. "But there are no marks for being pretty, if that's what you had in mind." He looked at Hal questioningly. "Was it?"

Jesper rolled his eyes as Hal spoke to Gort. He had seen the impressed looks that had crossed the inspectors face as the Herons entered the field. Gort was only mocking them to try and divert them from the fact that they had impressed the instructors. Well, he mused, thinking back on his days as a sword instructor at camp, not all good ideas were reserved for the intelligent minded. Just most.

Gort walked down the line, studying the odd assortment of weapons that the Herons possesed. He stopped in front of Jesper and held out a hand for his small hunting bow. Jesper was always reluctant to hand over a weapon to those he did not trust, especially one that provided him with food.

Alas, he had to cooperate if he wanted to get through the day with as minimal pain as possible. With and inward sigh, Jesper handed over the bow, ready to spring into action at any sign of it being taken away or broken.

"All right for small hunting ame. Not much use in battle. There's no power there." Gort grunted.

As if Jesper didn't know that. What did Gort think he used the bow for? Shooting his enemies? It would require an especially small brain to do that. He would have more luck stabbing someone with an arrow himself and discarding the bow altogether. Adults always seemed to underestimate those who were younger than them. While it was helpful in battle, it was rather infuriating at times like this.

He passed the bow back and Jesper grabbed it, silently letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He watched with amusement as Ingvar swung his club at Gort. in all fairness to Ingvar, the phrase "Take a swing" coming from someone standing right in front of you was generally translated to "take a swing at me". While jesper successfully contained his laughter at the sight of Gort yelping and dropping to the ground to avoid the club, he couldn't contain the slight upward twitch of his lips.

He grinned as Hal and Stig joined forces to try and explain Ingvar's short sightedness to Gort, however exaggerated it may be as the twins kept Ingvar quiet.

"Blind as a bat, sir!" Edvin called out.

"Can barely see beyond his nose!" Stefan exclaimed, struggling (and failing) to contain his smile.

Jesper thought it was high time he joined in the fray. "Can barely see his nose!" he laughed gleefully at the cornered look on Gort's face. Ingvar started to protest again, but Wulf shut him up. When Ingvar asked who attacked him, Wulf grinned and said innocently, "It's Ulf." His grin grew wider as Ingvar promised to settle it with him later.

Jesper laughed inwardly. It seemed that Wulf had forgotten that he and his brother had switched the rope on Wulf's wrist to Ulf's in order to confuse the Herons. Well, he wasn't going to back him up tonight. No, he was going to sit back and enjoy the show. If only popcorn had been invented yet.

Jesper watched as the twins argued the similarity of the words "mediocre" and "ordinary". He looked on in approval as Hal managed to shut them up. His leadership was showing improvement, but Jesper knew it still needed work. Unfortunately, he still hadn't figured out how to help him without actually letting him know he was helping him.

He smirked and shook his head slightly as both twins missed in perfect unison. He watched as Gort studied Stig's axe. That was definitely Jesper's worst weapon. He had never practiced it very much as they were extremely large and unwieldy. Where could he have concealed one on his person?

"Pretty good. Show me a few moves. And remember the rules. If you decapitate the instructor, the team loses points." Gort barked. Well, Jesper thought, the instructor wouldn't really be in a position to take away points, would he?

Jesper watched as Stig demonstrated his ability against an imaginary enemy. With his trained eyes, he could tell that the timing was off and that he wasn't putting his full body weight into the strokes. He could also see that Stig was purely on offense. If he were in an actual battle, he would be killed within seconds.

Gort moved on to Hal and his crossbow. "Where did you get your hands on this?" It wasn't common for Skandians to carry around missile weapons. Jesper hadn't seen any weapon with that particular design before, but he was almost positive Hal had made some of his own modifications.

"Thorn gave it to me," Hal said as he handed the crossbow over to Gort.

"Aah, yes. Thorn. The old drunk." Jesper raised his eyebrows. That was not the smartest thing to say to Hal. jesper didn't live in the town of Hallasholm, but he could see that Thorn and Hal were extremely close.

He watched as Hal snapped back at Gort in defense of his mentor. Gort looked up from the crossbow with a warning look, and Hal flushed, muttering an apology and dropping his eyes back to the ground. Jesper pursed his lips. If he were defending a friend he would have stood his ground and defended them until they relented or he was dead. Then again, there was a reason Hal was a skirl and not Jesper. Jesper could lead a group of demigods into battle no problem, but this world he was thrown in was not his own and he had to be extremely careful with how he acted.

"Loyalty to friend is a good thing, skirl. But if he is your friend, you should know this: A drunk is never completely 'over it'. The risk is always there that he'll start drinking again when things get tough. You simply can never depend on him." Jesper raised his eyebrows again. Thorn had no more inclination to drink when things got hard than anyone else in the town. Skandians weren't exactly careful about how much they drank. In fact, if what Hal said was true and Thorn hadn't touched a bottle in years, then he was probably less like;y to turn to the bottle now than an average bulky Skandian.

Jesper rolled his eyes as Gort unintentionally offended Hal by calling him an Araluen. He felt bad for Hal, as he seemed to never get away from the fact that he wasn't a full Skandian. Jesper wasn't Skandian at all, but no one knew that, so it didn't matter in situations like this. He supposed it was the Mist. No one in Hallasholm had ever asked where his parents were. They just assumed that he was being taken care of since he wasn't begging on the streets.

He sighed inwardly. People only ever saw what they wanted to see. It was good, because it meant that no innocent lives were endangered from his enemies, but it was hard on Jesper. Patching up wounds was always difficult, and it could get difficult stealing without anyone noticing missing supplies when it was a particularly hard winter. Above all else, Jesper missed the comradeship that he shared with the demigods, especially Pavel and Dawn. He couldn't talk to anyone about his problems, as no one here was a demigod. The emotions just built up inside him until he had to sprint and scream and sob, barely holding himself together with the weight of it all bearing down on him.

Jesper was jolted out of his morbid thoughts by the loud THUNK of Hal's crossbow releasing a projectile. He shook himself slightly, as if it would shake off all of his worries. Everyone else was too focused on Hal and Gort's conversation to notice. At least it made his life easier. Jesper watched as Hal shot again, this time at a shield a much further distance away. The bolt was slightly off center to the right, but it knocked the shield from its support, sending it spinning for a few meters back.

Gort motioned for them to come closer, and the Herons formed a loose semicircle around him. "All right," he began, "We'll issue you with your other weapons today. Some of you will be better suited to the sword, I think." Gort gestured at Hal, Edvin, and Jesper. They were of the slightest builds of the brotherband. Jesper was by far the skinniest, what with having the exact same body size he died in, but it always seemed that people overlooked the fact.

"Stig, you keep your axe. It's a good weight and balance for you. Stefan and you twins, it'll be axes for you too. Forget about the spears. You can use 'em as tent poles if you like." he turned to Jesper. "Lose the bow as well. Use it for hunting if you want, but that's it." Jesper mentally rolled his eyes. What did Gort think he used it for? Decoration?

Jesper could see the slight drop of relief in Hal's shoulders when Gort said to keep working on the crossbow. Gort would have been a fool no to. The crossbow was a powerful weapon, and, with Hal's modification, shouldn't take too much time to master.

"All right. The armorers have set up a tent. It's over there, at the end of the training ground." Gort pointed to the tent at the other end of the field. "Let's get over there and get you some weapons. Then you have the rest of the day to make final improvements to your quarters, and go over the list of tests we have in store for you."

Jesper started across the field with the rest of the brotherband, heading toward the armorers' tent. He watched as Hal ran to catch up with them. He knew how Hal felt. Things were moving quickly, and there were already assignments to catch up on. It was school all over again, Jesper thought with a grimace.

After the boys were issued their weapons, they headed to lunch. Jesper's stomach ached with hunger, but he knew he would regret eating anything more than an apple. He had pushed his limits, eating more than he should have at breakfast. Unfortunately, his stomach had shrunken to the point where he could never eat his fill before he died. Now that he had died, it seemed that the only way his body would change was if it caused him more pain and discomfort (ie. he could get skinnier, but not fatter. His hair could be cut short, but it would never grow back because technically he was dead (but he wasn't really. He just died)). Sighing, Jesper turned away from the food and inspected the weapon.

It was a plain sword, with an unadorned leather hilt stained with sweat marks. It was unbalanced, but he was skilled enough that he could still cause devastation to his opponent. He inspected the blade. It had a few nicks and needed an edge, but he could fix that later in the day.

Glancing around, he could see the other boys looking at their issued weapons almost reverently. To them, it was the symbol of them becoming a man. Jesper snorted inwardly. Demigods got a weapon as soon as they possibly could. There was nothing symbolic about it until its owner had fought countless battles and subconsciously created a symbolism for it. But, he suppose it was a good thing they were handling the weapons with such care. It showed their understanding of what wielding a weapon meant, and that they (hopefully) wouldn't treat it like a plaything.

He snapped out of his musings when Stig called him over to join him. He stood up, hiding his grimace from the rise in pain in his side where the knife entered (and apparently never came out, not that he could do anything about it). "Hal wants us to put some more roof frames under the canvas to stop the rain from pooling so much." Jesper nodded, and the two set to work.

He glanced over at the other boys. Ingvar was watching the twins, who were arguing quietly. He wondered what was on his mind. Hal and Edvin had their head bent over what Jesper assumed was the list of assessments. That was good. Both had intelligent and strategic minds. Plus, it was an added bonus that he didn't have to read it. Jesper had gotten faster and faster when reading and piecing word that he couldn't read clearly together, but his dyslexia was still a pain in the podux. Sending one more puzzled glance at Ingvar, Jesper turned back to the task at hand.


	5. Chapter 5

It was about a week after the Giant War. The Romans were heading home, and the adrenaline of the campers was dying down. Unfortunately, that meant that it was more difficult to escape the prisons of their own minds.

Jesper cut off the oncoming gasp from his mouth, his body completely rigid. It wasn't his first failed attempt at sleep. He just couldn't escape the images of the final battle.

The demigods screaming in pain.

The ones who fell without a sound.

The terror of being trapped in the dirt with no way out, watching your enemies rise from the ground, falling upon you in a wave of destruction.

The horrors of war that no man should know, much less child.

Blinking back tears, he silently crept out of the cabin, sketchbook and pencil in hand. Jesper avoided the harpies with ease, heading towards a hidden alcove along the beach. He and Pavel had found it back during the Titan War, and it had been their safe haven for when things just got too much. When Dawn had arrived at camp, they had shared their escape from reality with her.

Jesper settled himself against the wall and began to draw. He let go, fully immersing himself in the details of his drawing. Jesper briefly made eye contact with Pavel when he came in, earbuds in and phone in pocket. It was familiar. Him drawing, with Pavel dancing to his music, eyes closed. It helped, truly. To be able to escape reality for just a little while.

Some time later, Dawn came in, carrying a small bag. She sat down opposite of Jesper. Her eyes were brighter than usual, and her long hair, out of its usual braid, hung down to below the waistband of her pajamas in a tangled mess. From the bag she pulled out her favorite shoes, a pair of burgundy converse. The cave soon filled with the smell of Clorox as Dawn began to clean them.

The moonlight slowly creeped across the floor of the cave as time passed.

It washed over the feet of the girl who cleaned her shoes, providing what little comfort it could to a child who had just survived her first war.

It provided a shadow partner to dance with the boy lost in his own music, who worked his hardest to make weapons that would save the lives of those he called friends.

It cast light on the sketchbook of the boy who was the youngest but most world weary of them all, who subtly and silently watching over them, unable to stand the thought of losing them.

It heard their silent cries for help, pleas to be released from the prison of their minds. It heard, and gave its own silent cry, as it could do no more than what it already has been doing.

The cave was empty in the morning. Jesper watched Dawn crack a smile at something Will said from across the dining pavilion. He caught Pavel's eve and smiled. They weren't ok, but they were working on it.


End file.
